The moon sits as a wheel of cheese tonight,
half-cut with a serrated kitchen knife
on the star-dappled charcuterie board
of the vast and glittering midnight sky.
I smear sweet emotion against my cheeks,
tinged pink from a great rush of adrenaline;
this sticky and humid city is pressed
against the rise and fall of my heaving chest.
I close my eyes and count slowly to three.
The ecstasy of breath is erotic to me:
the hum of sensation in your lower belly
the magnitude of human sensitivity.
I asked for an openness with all of my chest,
and in response to my naked request
I was granted the reprieve of foresight,
a vision of hope to set me alight.
Kim Kaul is a poet and multidisciplinary artist living in Mumbai, India.